Chapter2：I am not Jesus
1083 Words
The woman wore tattered pajamas, streaked with blood, and she stumbled onto the balcony, horror etched on her face.
Crash!
A gigantic cat resembling an oversized Garfield—a feline nightmare as large as a tiger—smashed through the glass, its eyes fixed on her with unnerving intent.
"Meow!"
Terrified, the woman retreated, her back meeting the unyielding corner. "Lucky! Don’t come closer! Help! Someone help me!" Her voice echoed desperation.
The oversized Garfield cat moved with a predatory grace, advancing one deliberate step after another. But just as its muscles coiled to spring, something more sinister intervened. A massive, blood-red tongue shot up from the purple mist below!
In an instant, the tongue pierced the balcony floor and wrapped around the woman, pulling her into the mist before her scream could escape her lips.
Startled, the furry menace puffed up like a spiky beach ball and leaped to the balcony rail, hissing at the unseen threat that had snatched its prey.
From within the depths of the fog came a resounding, ominous croak: "Ribbit! Ribbit! Ribbit!"
The giant cat hesitated, then wisely decided against a froggy face-off, ambling back inside with a cautious retreat.
James Lon stood at his window, eyes wide, pupils shrinking. "Even the frogs are terrifying now? What’s next, flying pigs?" he murmured, squinting as if to see through the fog, contemplating the sheer size of a frog with a tongue like that.
Across the way, a window slid open, and a figure stepped into view—a woman whose mere presence could stop traffic.
It was Shirley Inr, a vision of beauty and poise even amid chaos, her face pale as she absorbed the scene of horror on the balcony opposite. The daughter of a bigwig in city commerce, Shirley was the neighborhood’s crown jewel of unattainability.
Though they were neighbors, Shirley's attitude toward James was typically dismissive, almost treating him like another invisible feature of the building. But in this new world, things were changing, flipping the script on its head.
James's eyes lingered, his imagination wandering as he took in her form—her figure so pleasingly proportionate that it defied logic even amid disaster.
Shirley caught his gaze, her eyes sharp with recognition as she assessed the young man who worked at the convenience store below, someone she’d never deigned to acknowledge.
"What are you looking at, you broke loser?" she snapped, her voice like ice. With a swift swish, she yanked her curtains closed.
James chuckled to himself, unperturbed. "What a stuck-up princess," he muttered. "Sooner or later, you'll come knocking."
The next day broke, bringing with it a ping from James's inbox. Finally, a woman had messaged him privately.
A Block #303 Bunny:
"Hey, handsome, can I have a pack of instant noodles? 🥺🙏"
James smirked, finally seeing the first breaks in the group’s solidarity.
"Finally, it begins," he thought. He didn't know Bunny personally—just another resident who preferred anonymity when receiving her deliveries.
Slave Recruitment:
"Send a full-body photo, no filters."
The reply came with a gentle smile emoji and a revelation:
A Block #303 Bunny:
"I’m a little chubby; hope you don’t mind! 😊"
James opened the photos and fought to maintain composure.
Her figure was… substantial, each arm thicker than his thighs, hips wide enough to give a truck pause.
"You call this 'a little chubby'? Try a human tank!" he thought as the system chimed in:
[Avril Lunge]
Age: 29
Quality: 3/10 (Unattractive appearance)
Morality: 3/10 (Promiscuous, six ex-boyfriends)
Overall Score: 3/10
[Ding! Does not meet the system’s minimum requirements!]
James Lon blocked her without remorse.
A Block #303 Bunny:
"??? Handsome?"
Realizing she’d been blocked, Bunny unleashed her indignation in the group chat.
"This [Slave Recruitment] guy is a scammer and a p*****t! Don’t believe him!"
James, unphased, posted a screenshot of their exchange.
"You think you can trade your body for food? Do I look like a charity?" he shot back.
The group erupted with laughter, leaving Bunny in frustrated silence.
Later, James further stirred the pot, posting a photo from his limitless inventory: 100 Snickers bars, each a coveted treasure in this famished world.
Reacting swiftly, the group lit up:
B Block #509:
"Wow! So many Snickers bars!"
A Block #904 Miss Liaue:
"Slave Recruitment Bro, can you share some with me?"
Even Aunt Green from C Block #901 pleaded her case.
"My grandson hasn’t eaten in three days. Can you spare us some chocolate?"
James recalled her past penny-pinching and fibs, responding with biting indifference.
Slave Recruitment:
"Your grandson’s hunger is none of my business."
Outraged, Aunt Green retorted gloriously:
"Young man, don’t you know the value of respecting the elderly and caring for the young?"
Slave Recruitment:
"I respect your mom’s ass!"
James’s bluntness left Aunt Green fuming, her attempts to retort stifled as James silenced her in the chat with a mute.
As the Purple Mist cloaked the neighborhood by day five, starvation was rampant, affecting 90% of its residents. James alone remained in the quasi-peace of his apartment, aware of the dangers lurking even in the supposed safety above the mist.
Yesterday's distant screams, perhaps the sound of someone encountering a creature not quite out of fairy tales, echoed hauntingly in his mind. The uncertainty marked every aspect of life now—even the origins of those screams were a mystery.
In the midst of it all, a pack of instant noodles and a few rounds of light exercise served as a bridge to normalcy. He logged into League of Legends: Wild Rift to grasp a thread of connection in this unknowable world.
During a match, chat banter came with a grim candor.
A:
"Still alive, guys?"
B:
"No s**t. Dead can’t play games."
A:
"Hurry! I'm almost out of food. Dies tomorrow, so let's play while we can."
A:
"Heh. When you're gone, bet I'll play with your… you know?"
B:
"Shut up!"
Barely minutes in, a teammate's mic exploded with terror.
"Holy s**t! My dog’s gone crazy! Get off me! Stop biting me!"
Sounds of a struggle followed, gnawing noises doused in grim silence as the line went dead.
Stunned, the remaining players fell mute.
James left the game, mind heavy with realization. Even man's best friend was part of this unfathomable threat.
His eyes wandered to the strange succulent on his windowsill—the one with its mysterious, black Nephelium-like fruit. It seemed to hum with potential, another enigma in a world transformed beyond all recognition.
- Writer
